Food, Glorious Food

[Before I get to this meme from the Angry Young Man, may I recommend reviewing vacation snaps of Barcelona by JunkThief and of Portland by Kusala? Good. Now then:]

[1. Are there any weird "food rules" you have? Feel free to list as many as you like.]

[The only "rule" is my dwindling list of foods I won't eat. It doesn't seem like that long a list these days, but when you think about all the common dishes that contain them, you'll understand how careful I still have to be when eating out. I often choose which entree to order based on whether I consider the sides edible.]

a. Beans and legumes, mostly. OK, I've always despised green beans (french-cut or square shaped, these beans don't lose my hate), kidney beans, limas, "white" or "navy" beans, black beans, and pintos. Especially canned beans (or peas): yuck! There's very little that grosses me out more than a vat of congealing, crusty, lard-filled refritos in some taqueria's steam table.
Just. Won't. Eat. That. Slimy/Mealy. Crap!]

[But...I've always liked lentils (that same steam table can contain moong dal, and just try to keep me away), maybe because they've kept me in protein several times when I was broker than broke (and gassier than gassy, as you can imagine). Also, when hummus became a popular dip here in the '90s, I was right on board. I made the leap then to accepting garbanzo beans whole. I feel like I'm growing.]

[b. Mayonnaise and mustard. I'm sure I eat sauces and aiole containing both these things all the time, but I don't want to know about it. This means no premade sandwiches at cut-rate delis: gee, too bad.]

[c. Let's talk about creamy spreads and sauces:
i. Mayo & mustard you know about;
ii. Butter...more please!
iii. Cream cheese...gross (that means cheesecake is usually out);
iv. Sour cream: no.
v. Creamy salad dressings: mileage may vary. I love Caesar dressing (but see mayo above and raw egg below...must be the delicious anchovies and garlic), but otherwise usually go for vinaigrette or sim'lar
vi. Pesto, alfredo, and anything based on butter or cheese or slowly cooked egg: more please!

[d. Tuna and salmon. I'm not sure why; I tend to like all other seafood, to the point of obsession when it comes to molluscs and crustaceans. But these two - yuck. Makes navigating a sushi bar difficult sometimes.]

[(Combine b., c. and d. and imagine the fits I used to pitch when I was offered tuna fish sandwiches as a kid.]

[e. Eggs: scrambled and cooked fairly well only, please. That includes hard-boiled egg in things like potato salad. In fact, I only like "German" potato salad, the vinegar-dill type.]

[f. Errata: no organ meats (including pate de foie gras), pickled cucumbers and assorted relishes (the idea of a charcuterie plate interests me more than the execution, usually), avocadoes, beets, yams, or sweet potatoes.]

[h. No rules, but preferences: as I grow older, I find myself wanting to eat dinner earlier, and don't sleep well if I eat after eight o'clock. Also, I would really rather prefer that if I'm cooking a dinner that's meant to be eaten hot, that my guests come to the table when called, and not spend time i. washing dishes, ii. finishing up one last thing somewhere else in the house, or iii. do anything but sit down, eat, and maybe offer a polite word or two about the quality of the food which I slaved over a hot blah blah blah. Ohhh, I'm going to make someone a fine shrew of a wife one day...again.]

[Let's try to redeem ourselves, shall we...?]

[When I was a kid, I was a very picky, very vocal eater. I'm still embarrassed by the memory being about eight years old, and pitching a royal fit at a McDonald's in Santa Rosa about the minced onions and pickles AND mayo AND mustard that arrived unasked for on my hamburger. My mother's friend Jo, who that day had charge of my sister and me along with her own two cherubs, was seen scraping the sludge off my burger with the edge of a cardboard french fry container onto the accompanying paper wrapper, and giving me a look that, even then, I had the decency to feel ashamed of. (However, I think that's last time I ever attempted to eat a McDonald's hamburger: chicken McNuggets were introduced not too long after, and they were my refuge on the few occasions that we went to that epitome of all that my parents believed, in the '70s, to be wrong with the world.)]

[You might think a-f (qv.) demonstrate that not much progress has been made in the intervening thirty years, but it's really not true. Not only do I not go into great detail about the foods I abhor (except, you know, here), quietly pushing any offending elements to the side of the plate, I offer the following list of foods I have learned to love, like or at least swallow quickly in the interests of possible future invitations to dine with, well, anybody:]

[i. Tomatoes and olives (I had only gotten to toleration with both until I ate them in Greece. That first day I ate "Greek" (what they call "farmer") salad a mere kalamata pit's throw from the Acropolis, ate it every day after, and the olives were always my favorite part);]

[j. Onions (and garlic and shallots and leeks) and peppers (still can't quite stomach green bells, and still prefer my pizza to be onion free)];

[k. Peas. (Fresh or frozen; canned still makes a look come over my face not unlike Queen Victoria's normal expression in photographs. Do you want to hear my story about being offered a spoonful of mushy peas when I was seven on that oft-recounted trip to England with my grandparents? Why not?)];

[l. Sharp cheeses, especially bleu, the creamy salad dressing made from which used to earn my particularly loud scorn (I still prefer mild or medium cheddar for most purposes, but can appreciate the sharp kind in small quantities with fresh apples or pears to cut the cheese's strong assault);]

[m. asparagus, and n. artichokes. It used to be (and still is in some quarters) a byword that I couldn't stand to eat any vegetable that began with the letter A. My California patriotism is still questioned when I announce (quietly, respectfully of others!) my ongoing dislike of avocadoes. But about ten years ago, my friend Greg grilled asparagus on his barbecue with lots of garlic and olive oil, and I had one of those culinary epiphanies that have been a particularly joyful part of adulthood. A year and a half ago, my flatmate Elisabeth prepared artichokes for a vegetarian seder here at Maison le Trou, and I tried them dipped in melted butter instead of mayonnaise the way Mom would so often do, and lo! Another epiphany. Still...avocado? No.]

[n. Beer, wine, and alcohol. My sister was one of those kids who would be eager for the occasional taste of our parents' drink. Not me. That has changed, though I usually leave others' cocktails alone and order or mix my own.] [To be continued, if you can believe it....]

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